My 5k a Month Project

Sometime in December I decided to spice up my year and sign up for a 5k a month. I run fairly often, so this was more so a way to make sure I kept on keeping on with that and didn't resort to forgetting where my running shoes went, claiming I run.

I’m very good at claiming.

I’m also very good at baking cookies.

You see the problem, right?

Back when I was looking for a January race, B mentioned he would do it with me. Mind you, B wasn’t a runner. B is a former lacrosse player who is use to running plays and running his mouth when it comes to card games he thinks he can beat me at. He had been out running with me a few times, and decided to sign his legs away for the first consecutive 3 miles of his life. 


There’s been no turning back, we’ve got 5 racing t-shirts, 5 bibs thumbtack to my cubicle wall and 5 5ks done! Here’s a recap of the runs:

January’s No Plow Problem

Some dad in some random suburb of Philly gathered 75 of his neighborhood friends together to run this race for an unpopular disease his daughter has. There were race numbers and t-shirts though, so seemed legit enough.

Ready, set, GO! The first 1-minute stretch was icy. To be expected at this time of year. The rest of the 3 miles were completely unplowed. C O M P L E T L Y. Snow the day, weeks and month before and the popularity of this trail made for dangerous ice craters of frozen ice and fresh snow.

I couldn’t believe how slow we had to move just to stay safe. Or the narrowness of the trail that made passing someone disastrous. Or the minor changes in elevation that felt like slides to my demise. Final time: 31 minutes flat.

February’s Fickle Winter Pickel

The weather this day was a bitterly fickle. Some sun, yet chilly winds made my fingertips tickle. And for some strange reason, the race theme was a pickle.

We gathered on the clear (thankfully!) trail ready to run. The pickle mascot man at the starting line was odd but fun, we ran down the trail with ease and soon were half done.

Then a 6-year-old, flat-footed, boy ran by. Faster he ran when our approaching shadows he spied. I was growing irritated at the thought of our finish times being tied. We finally passed him as he looked for prizes along the course far and wide.

B and I strolled in at a cool and steady pace. With a 2011 best of 29:44, we finished the race.

March’s Are-We-There-Yet Mishap

I was so excited about this race, I went to it three times. Once to Pottsville instead of Pottstown, and again the following weekend to Jersey on a Saturday, for a Sunday race. Finally on Sunday, the stars aligned.

Sponsored by a local high school, there were a lot of kids there. I dislike this, because they kick my butt. There was also an old man there. He kicked my butt too. We finished slightly under our best at 29:24.

April’s Sprint

Now, THIS is what I’m talking about. A good crowd, a DJ, a free massage after the run, a beautiful, perfect spring day. We ran a lap around the high school track then took off into a neighborhood that was a tad hillier than expected. I kept B trucking at a decent clip and didn’t let up on the group we were along pace with.

Back to the track, we sprinted past our fellow runners and bettered our time by a full minute (28:20). Afterward we milked up the massage tables and stuck around for prizes. B collected two- tickets for a local minor league baseball game and two passes for an afternoon golfing. I scored snow tubing passes for next winter.

May’s Is-This-A-Real-Race Race

Last weekend was another beautiful spring day for a run (though a tad hot). Man alive was this a small race! First hint should have been that it was at a small university, sponsored by a small major (sports management). A race for the cure of arachnophobia, would turn out more supporters. 


All 12 of us donned paper wrist bracelets in lieu of racing bibs and waited at the starting line while the student DJ took his time googling 'race start horn + soundboard'.

The course was a maze through campus, following tiny red Christmas-present-esqu ribbons tied to trees and light posts. More often than not, I could not find the centimeter thick ribbon and followed the shadow of the girl well ahead of us. With a constant eye on the time, I knew this was going to be a good finish.

Some poor scheduling of the event meant we shared part of the course with the Association of Men Who Rub Their Corvettes With Diapers - Pennsylvania Chapter. Yeah, you try finding a tiny red bow in a sea of muscle cars with popped hoods, American flags flying and Bruce Springsteen on repeat.

I might have accidentally, ever so slightly led us off the course by about 30-45 seconds. Once I realized the error, I was pissed at myself, but we were near the finish line and still on track to beat our time. Official time: 28:07. Three painful seconds away from my dad’s personal best.

Next Race: Sometime next month- Unscheduled as of yet. Stay tuned for more tales of racing stories!